


I Know This Is Belated (We Love You Back)

by foundfamilyvevo



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Ben (Disney: Descendants)-centric, Canon Compliant, Gen, Multi, Pining, Polyamory, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 16:56:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18642253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foundfamilyvevo/pseuds/foundfamilyvevo
Summary: Ben spent so long imagining what it would be like, when he finally became king, when he finally brought the children from the Isle to Auradon. He had lay awake at night thinking about it, been distracted in school daydreaming of it, playing the scenarios out in his head a thousand different ways.Somehow he missed this one.In all his fantasies, all his worries, all his complex constructions and hypotheticals, it had never occurred to Ben that he might fall in love.Or, Ben's in love with Mal already - there's just three small problems he has to sort out. Or, Ben puts off talking to Carlos for several months.





	I Know This Is Belated (We Love You Back)

**Author's Note:**

> this is rated t for some drinking, some kissing and some swearing. you could probably read the relationships as gen if that's more your jam  
> (can you believe i wrote this. i can't believe i wrote this. i am a disaster. pls enjoy)  
> title from fall out boy's 'the grenade jumper' which is a very core4@ben song if you ask me.

Ben would admit it to anyone who asked: he never could have predicted how the children from the Isle would make him feel.

 

Ben has known that he loved Mal for a long time. While she still doubts (a huff here, a pout there, a roll of her eyes on a daily basis) he knows he would have fallen for her with or without some magic love spell hidden secret in a baked good-luck heist. Her eyes could bring him to his knees without question - he’s never felt ready to be a king, but Mal makes him feel like he has to be one. His heart swells and catapults around her. His chest aches when she’s gone.

 

All of that is clear to him swiftly, early on. He’s in over his head before she tells him, gruff-soft as only Mal can be, that she can only get so far into this.

“I don’t understand,” he says to her, tucking her hair behind her ear (it’s always in her face, it gets caught in her mouth when she’s thinking too hard). “Is there something I did? Something I didn’t do?”

“No, no,” Mal replies, swatting at his hand without any real feeling. “I just have a… a prior commitment.”

Ben falters. No one had mentioned anything - she herself had said she hadn’t dated on the Isle. “Oh. I understand.”

“Do you?” she asks, a pretty crease forming in her pretty brow. “I hadn’t - just.” She shakes herself, crosses first her arms and then her legs, and sits back heavily against the tree they’re sitting under. The light filters through the leaves and paints a dappled picture, bright and dark, across her hair and face. Ben’s stomach tugs with how much, how strongly, he loves her. “When I told you about how it is on the Isle I thought you got it, but… I don’t think you did.”

“Oh,” says Ben again, too afraid to follow this one up with any claim to understanding. He wants to hold her hand. Or to do something useful, to help her. Instead, he just waits, attentive.

“I have a prior commitment,” repeats Mal. “To Evie, and Jay, and Carlos.”

 

It makes sense. When Ben thinks about it all again, it makes sense.

He thought they were - close. Knew they were friends. When they came from the Isle they were already inseparable, and as he and Mal had grown closer, she had told him that they were her first - and only - real allies, the only people she trusted. The only times he truly saw her soften were around them, and the times he saw her fiercest were when she pushed one of them behind herself for protection.

It makes sense, thinking about how Evie and Mal walk arm in arm, sit together murmuring, banter like his parents. It makes sense thinking about how whenever someone has the off-hand thought in the back of their mind that they might, maybe, possibly one day cross one of the villain kids, Jay is there with looks to kill and hands - well. Also to kill. It makes sense thinking about how when Carlos decided Ben was okay, the rest of them seemed to as well, automatically, some kind of emotional trust hivemind.

 

As time goes on, it makes more sense.

 

Jay and Ben play a lot of tourney together, that first term, when the kids from the Isle still feel weird and different. Jay is nothing like Ben thought. Jay seems hard, but is soft - seems catty but is steady - seems a thief but is a giver. He’s hotheaded and tempestuous but he’s tied so tightly to Mal and Evie and Carlos that he can never truly get swept away.

“That’s what makes me worry, sometimes, y’know,” Jay says one night.

They’re lying next to each other on the grass. They’d both needed an escape from their heads; they’d trained for hours before Jay had flopped down, beat, and pulled a flask out of nowhere. Ben frowned at him but took the first swig, and it’s been an hour since then and the flask is empty. Ben has never been drunk before (isn’t even sure he’s drunk now, he wouldn’t know what it feels like, what to compare it to) but when Jay starts talking he makes sure to listen.

“They’re… like, especially Evie and Carlos. They’re just  _ good _ . They’re rigged for it on the inside. And at least Mal can control it. I’m just…” Jay mimes something exploding with his hands, laughs in a way that is self-deprecating at best. “I feel like a time bomb, man. I don’t think I’ll ever be what they need me to be.”

“I don’t think that’s true!” Words feel like jelly in Ben’s mouth right now, like he’s speaking around them. “Fairy Godmother says that only good people care about whether they’re bad or not. Bad people don’t stop to think about it. You keep them safe, Jay, they need you.”

Jay hums, like he’s turning that over in his head. Ben rolls to look at him, even though it momentarily makes him dizzy. Jay’s hair is all spread out on the damp grass around him. He looks like a stained glass window depiction of himself. Jay runs his fingers through his hair like he can hear Ben’s thoughts, like Ben is radio broadcasting them all from his heart in big dumb soundwaves. “What if I fuck it up one day? Like, the kind of fuck it up where I can’t fix it? And then you all hate me.”

_ You all. _ Ben included. “I don’t think I could ever hate you.” Ben reaches out, fumbling, and takes Jay’s hand. He would normally never dream of doing such a thing, and he’s sure that normally Jay wouldn’t let him. For now, Jay interlaces their fingers and squeezes, tight. “I chose you, Jay. When I was picking the kids from the Isle, I chose you. Something made me do that, right?”

“You don’t know that it was something  _ good _ that made you,” says Jay, and then grins. “I’m kidding. It was you, of course it was good.”

That hurts in the weird way that people’s expectations have always hurt. Normally the villain kids don’t hit him in that particular Achilles heel, or maybe when they do Ben is just sober enough not to let it bother him. Tonight, though, he groans, shaking his head. “Not everything about me is good,” he huffs. He knows he’s slurring a little. “Sometimes I want stuff, and do stuff because I want stuff, and don’t think about other people first.”

“You mean being selfish?” says Jay, almost mocking. 

Ben insists, “I’m not perfect. Sometimes I do things that make me think I’m selfish.”

Jay’s cat eyes narrow and he scans Ben, disbelieving. “Like when? Like what? Name one thing that could make you selfish.”

Ben looks at Jay, and then looks at Jay’s mouth, and then looks at Jay, and then kisses Jay.

 

He tells Mal as soon as he gets home. He calls her, because he feels a text would be insensitive. All sorts of panic are tying his mind and stomach in knots, and he feels breathless when she picks up. It doesn’t occur to him not to tell Mal, at any point. Ever since he first proposed the plan to bring the villain kids over from the Isle, he’s been aware of one crystal clear fact: if anything ever screws this up, it will be his fault, not theirs.

When he admits what happened, she just laughs. “Yeah,” she says. “That makes sense.”

“You’re not angry?” Ben asks, feeling his insides collapse from their inflated state. “I’m  _ so _ sorry, I’m so, so sorry, Mal-”

“Are you still drunk?” she asks, still sounding like this isn’t a big deal. “Ben, I don’t care.” Her voice softens. “In fact, I’m kind of glad. These are my people. It matters to me… that they matter to you.” Clearing her throat, she adds, “It makes me feel like you get me.”

“I get it,” Ben says, maybe a little fast. Maybe a little drunk. “Mal, he’s-”

“I know,” Mal murmurs. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Talk to him tomorrow. And then talk to Carlos.”

“Talk to Carlos?” Ben tries to ask, but she’s already saying  _ loveyougoodnightbye _ and hanging up.

 

When they see each other the next day, it’s Jay who smiles, humble and a little embarrassed and comforting. Jay is the one who stands next to Ben on purpose in their team huddle, and Jay’s the one who holds out his hand and says, “We’re all good. Right?” just before Ben goes out on the field.

Ben shakes his hand for way too long. It’s warm and secure, and it sends a buzz through him, like a pleasant taser. Jay’s staring right at him, and Ben stares right back. He feels like there’s a rope tied to his sternum, earnestly reeling him closer. Jay is always fiery, but it’s so concentrated right now that it feels like electricity, like a lightbulb glowing brighter and brighter. “Right.”

Jay sucks in a breath. Maybe he feels it too, the way that Ben does. “Ask Carlos. If he says yes… if he says yes, we’ll all say yes.”

“Ask Carlos what?”

Coach calls them both, and Jay looks away, breaks the eye contact Ben was so entranced with. But he looks back. Says firmly, “Talk to Carlos,” and then takes off towards the starting lineup.

_ Talk to Carlos. _

Ben guesses he doesn’t have much of a choice.

 

After that, things get messy for a while. He’s so busy being king he can’t seem to manage anything else - can barely manage Mal. When he sees Jay it’s fleeting, and over time their dynamic normalises, even though Ben can never quite stop thinking about kissing him again. Evie shoots him soft glances, uses her softest voice when talking to him, but doesn’t let on whether she knows what happened or not.

Ben tries to talk to Carlos but whenever he gets a moment alone and Carlos is smiley and tired and telling him about his day, he can’t bear to ruin it. Life goes on and gets more complicated by the day.

The stress starts to get to him. The stress starts to get to everyone. Evie looks tired. Jay looks worried. Carlos hides himself away. Ben doesn’t even want to think about his own… everything.

 

And then Mal runs off to the Isle.

 

Ben and Carlos pack things from Ben’s room while Evie helps Jay. Carlos looks drawn and older than his years. Ben feels the same.

“Are you okay?” Ben asks, finally. Everyone’s been asking Ben that question, but he doesn’t know if anyone has checked in with Carlos.

It’s a moment before Carlos answers. He’s fiddling with the zipper on his bag. His fingertips are so gentle, deft from years of handling gadgetry and sewing needles, precise and calloused and right now so, so nervous. “I’m fine.” Seeing Ben’s skepticism, he clarifies, “I’m going to be fine. On the Isle. I just don’t like how it makes me act.”

Ben shuffles closer. Carlos bats his lashes, though it can’t be intentional. They’re so long that every time he blinks, it looks like he’s asking Ben for something. Ben would give him anything when he looks like that.

(So, all the time.)

“Right,” says Ben, not sure what he can say to help, feeling supremely unhelpful in every way to everyone, as a matter of fact. He clearly did the wrong thing with Mal and now he’s standing here, about to do the wrong thing with Carlos.

He loves Carlos so dearly. Carlos, of all of them, feels fragile. Like the wrong move will shut him out. Like the wrong words will close him off.

“I don’t want you to see me like that,” Carlos confesses, chewing his lip. “The others - they’ve seen it before. They know what I’m like. Or what I was like,” he corrects himself. “But I don’t want you to think badly of me.”

“Carlos,” says Ben, quiet, “Nothing could make me think badly of you.”

Snorting, Carlos throws in another power cable. “The Isle turns me into a coward.”

Carlos walks his own tightrope. They all walk one, Ben thinks. Evie between her image and her reality, Mal between her head and her heart, Jay between his love and his rage. Carlos’s tightrope looks a little different, but that’s still all it is: his courage and his fear.

The thing about Carlos is he hasn’t got a cowardly bone in his body. He’s snarky and quick-witted and more than happy to stand up to a bully, happy to tell people exactly what he thinks of them. And Ben doesn’t know what Carlos has been through, but he knows enough. He catches it in whispers, sees it in flashes, the tourney changeroom where Jay stands close by Carlos, covers him subtly, and only once does Ben see the scars making a horrible embroidery of Carlos’s left side.

Perhaps of all of them, Carlos trusts the least. Evie follows her heart, Jay follows his gut, and Mal demands loyalty over and over. For Carlos, it seems more complex than that. He’s scared for good reason.

“For the record,” Ben says, reaching out to gently bump his elbow against Carlos’s, “I think you’re really brave.”

Zipping the bag closed and swinging it onto his back, Carlos shrugs, uncertain. “We’ll see if you still think that when we get back,” he says, but something underneath it all hums with  _ thank you _ .

 

Carlos is no coward, but he is careful for good reason. If Carlos doesn’t want Ben, then the rest of them won’t, either. And Ben won’t blame them.

  
  


The first time Evie tells him a secret, Ben is sat at his desk with books and books open in front of him, trying to make sense of some new legislation proposed to manage the taxation of water assets in the farmlands. He’s baffled and feeling underqualified. Before his coronation, all he did was prepare to be king, but sometimes he feels as though he spent all that time studying out of the wrong textbook, learning for the wrong exam. Since Maleficent’s defeat, the kingdom expects a lot from him, but it’s dense and complicated and occasionally makes him want to cry, just a bit. He’s rubbing his eyes when there’s a knock at the door.

“Come in,” he calls, his voice dry and raspy. He doesn’t remember the last time he spoke aloud.

The handle turns, and as the door slides open, he sees her, like a gradient, a smooth one-piece-at-a-time view. Evie is still dressed from the day at school and looks worn and weary under her soft warm blush and her bright-bright-bright eyeshadow.

“Ben?” she says. The way her voice goes up and down lulls him into calm. “Could I talk to you?”

“Of course,” he says, immediately closing the book he was reading. The page number would have been useful, he realises a beat too late. But it’s important she knows she has his full attention. “Come and sit down.”

“You’re not still working, right?” She’s hesitant, but she slips inside and closes the door behind her. A few strides lead her to the chair, where she sits, tucking her dress under her thighs and sitting on her hands for a moment before she seems to think better of it, clasping them neatly in her lap instead. “It’s getting late.”

Ben sighs. “I know I shouldn’t be, but the court needs an answer on this legislation tomorrow, and I need to make sure I know what I’m talking about. A lot of the older advisers still think I’m too young for this, and I can never get my words right on the spot…” He realises too late that he’s venting at her, and she would always be too polite to tell him. “I’m sorry. I’ll go to bed soon, though, don’t worry. How are you?”

“Fine, good,” she says, too fast.

Ben doesn’t buy it, but he doesn’t want to push. It’s always a balancing act, with her - with all the villain kids but especially with her. Sweet Evie, somewhere between outgoing and composed, genuine and rigid, lovely and calculating. He wants to give her space.

“What’s the legislation?” she asks.

“It’s complicated,” he says, trying to brush her off, thinking he’s too tired to explain. Forgetting, momentarily, who he’s dealing with. Her eyes flash and her lips purse.

“Let me see.”

Between the two of them, drafting an appropriate address takes no time at all. Evie understands the monetary aspects of the proposal far faster than Ben had, and is quick and eloquent with her writing. She’s top of almost every class for a very good reason. Ben feels foolish for not having thought of asking her for help before. Simultaneously, he feels bad for letting her help at all when she clearly has something else on her mind.

He puts down his quill at the end of the address and stretches his stiff fingers. “This one’s the one,” he says, nodding at the draft. “Thank you so much, Evie. I wouldn’t have gotten that done tonight on my own. I owe you one.”

“It’s no trouble,” she insists, that same mix, honest and polite. “I’m glad I could help.”

They sit in companionable, tired silence for a moment, Ben skimming the address once more to cement it in his mind, Evie looking out the window at the canopy of night hanging over the gardens.

“I had something I wanted to tell you,” she says. She takes a breath. “But it’s a secret.”

Evie has never told him a secret before, but when she does, hushed and calm and looking straight at him, Ben imagines distantly how Mal must feel all the time. The hot, excited flush of being the one she chose to tell. The heartbreak of what it is. The solid, absolute certainty that this secret must be kept.

“It’s safe with me,” he promises. He has to clear his throat to say it.

She smiles, and it blinds him. Her smiles are radiant, a rarity still after years of being told not to smile, not to frown, not to move.  _ She was meant to sit there like a perfect little doll, _ Mal had hissed.

“Thank you,” Evie whispers, and covers his hand with her own. “Talk to Carlos, when you can.”

 

Her secret cruises around in his head for weeks after. 

_ I’m in love with you. _

Her sweet voice. Her sweet eyes.

_ I’m in love with you _ .

He doesn’t tell anyone.

 

It’s the first tourney game Ben has been to in so long, but Mal asked him to come (“I get so bored watching them, Ben,  _ please _ ...”) and, as a general rule, he does whatever Mal asks, which is how he ends up in the stands when Carlos’s knee gets dislocated.

It’s a dodgy play from the opposing team, but not illegal, and probably not on purpose judging by the expression of shock on the guy’s face. As soon as Carlos is down, chaos hits. Evie and Mal shoot up from beside Ben, running not for Carlos, but for Jay, who is yelling like hell opened up and charging for the unsuspecting player from the other team.

At first Carlos collapses into the grass, but almost immediately he pulls himself up and starts to haphazardly crawl away. When someone reaches out to touch him he ducks and rolls away, more panicked than before.

Ben makes his judgement in a split second, jumps the barrier and runs down on to the pitch.

“I’m going to  _ rip out your throat _ -” Jay is screaming, much to Evie’s dismay as she fervently tries to soothe him. She’s speaking softly in his ear but her grip on his arm is vicelike. Mal has planted herself between the two boys but looks just as volatile as Jay. However, Evie seems to have them under wraps for now, with the hand that isn’t holding Jay clasping Mal’s wrist.

Carlos has got himself to the edge of the field, where Coach and the first aid team have started to run over to him. Ben wishes he didn’t know so well what fear looked like when it pulled at Carlos’s face, but it’s the same expression he saw when Carlos first saw Dude on the pitch all that time ago, the same expression he wore when he hesitated on betraying his mother, the same expression he wore on their way back to the Isle. As they close in, Carlos cries out, something that makes Ben’s heart shred: “Ben! Ben, help!”

“Stop! Keep away from him!” Ben yells, frantically waving his hands at Coach and the others. They slow, if only because Ben is their king, calling protests and confused questions. Ben ignores them in favour of running over and crouching by Carlos’s side, keeping a couple of feet away.

“Carlos,” he says, out of breath - he can feel the difference in the time since he quit tourney - “Carlos, look at me. It’s okay.”

Frantic, Carlos gasps for air, gulps in pain, says, “I can’t stand, I need to get out of here, I can’t  _ run _ ,” and Ben takes the risk, reaching over and taking his hand. Carlos jolts, like it takes him a moment to realise that it’s Ben who did it, to realise the hand is attached to his own body.

“Breathe,” Ben says. “Breathe. I’m going to put it back into place and then carry you out of here. Okay?”

Carlos sucks in a shaky, broken breath, and turns to him, eyes wide.

"Okay," he echoes, weak and firm. "As long as it's you, not-" he waves a hand in the direction of Coach and the others "-not one of them."

The roar of people talking and calling around them fades away as Ben grips Carlos's leg. His first aid skills are at a high standard, his mother always made sure of that, but knowing the theory is different to having the guts to do it in practise. He looks at Carlos's face again, and is overwhelmed. Teeth gritted in pain, Carlos watches him, careful but open, hurting but trusting. Ben clenches his own jaw and puts Carlos's knee back where it's meant to be.

It makes a nauseating sound. Carlos is silent through it, but Ben feels him shaking.

When it's over, Ben scoops him up, gentle as he knows how to be as he lifts Carlos off the ground and holds him to his chest. Carlos wraps his arms around Ben, clinging tight. Shooting daggers at anyone who tries to approach them other than Mal, Evie and Jay, Ben helps Carlos off the field. All he can think about is Carlos calling out his name, calling for  _ his help _ , about how maybe he could make himself into someone good enough for Carlos if he tried for the rest of his life.

 

In the changeroom, all four of the villain kids are unusually quiet. Ben had only just put Carlos down when Jay, Mal and Evie had burst in after them, all demanding attention and reassurance from Carlos that he was okay. When Carlos’s response was a broken, “I’m fine,” they all huddled around him, Mal draping her jacket over his back, Evie putting an arm around his shoulders, Jay sitting by his feet to assess the damage. Jay keeps muttering to himself, “This is all my fault,” only to have the girls hit him and say he’s not helping.

Ben stands, hovers more like, uncertain of what to do, feeling out of his depth in this part of their dynamic. Carlos won’t look at him, lashes wet and cheeks pale and sweaty all over. His freckles stand out so strong against his skin.

“Sorry,” Carlos says at last. “I really, uh. Freaked out on you there.”

It takes Ben a moment to realise Carlos is talking to him. When he does, he doesn’t know what to say. How can he tell Carlos that he felt happy, relieved, accepted? That all he wanted was to be helpful? That Carlos calling out to him when he felt unsafe has bridged a gap Ben had been struggling to swim across for months?

_ Selfish. _

“I’m just glad you’re okay, Carlos, don’t apologise,” he says. “I’m sorry that everyone crowded you like that.”

“I understand why.” Carlos shrugs, and jokes, “I’m their golden boy. What would the good students of Auradon High do without me?”

“Now we’ll never make it through this season of tourney,” Ben agrees, sighing. “Star player benched, and all.”

Carlos laughs. It’s wet, and weak, but it sounds like him, and it makes everybody else sit back for a moment. Mal’s shoulders loosen. Jay’s fists release. Evie starts to smile.

“I’m going to go talk to Coach, make sure everyone knows you’re okay,” Ben says.

“Okay,” says Carlos. Finally, he does look at Ben, all glittery and grass-stained, a smear of dirt under his eye. “Thanks, Ben.”

 

It’s walking back across the pitch, going through the motions of talking to the officials, representing his Isle kids as best he knows how, that Ben remembers his conversation with Jay.  _ Talk to Carlos. _ His heart is so full, he barely hears what Coach and Fairy Godmother are saying. His heart is full and it is in his throat.  _ Talk to Carlos _ . Carlos had called his name, not by fluke or misstep or because he needed Ben but because he  _ wanted _ Ben. Because he trusts Ben. He trusts Ben enough to ask for help. Because Carlos, the bravest person Ben knows, still trusts, even after everything.

 

He lies in bed that night and texts Carlos.

_ Ben: Hey, Carlos. I hope your leg isn’t causing you too much pain. My day is pretty booked out tomorrow but I was wondering if I could drop by in the evening? _

It’s about ten minutes before he gets a response.

_ Carlos: Go for it. I’m not exactly going to run off. _

Ben laughs despite himself.

_ Ben: I’ll see you then. _

 

Knocking on Carlos and Jay’s door, Ben can feel his hands sweating. Carlos’ voice calls  _ come in! _

He’s sat on the bed with his leg up on a pillow. It’s been strapped and bandaged, and it’s a little swollen but not nearly as bad as it had been the day before

“Can I close the door?” Ben asks. Carlos nods. The flower in Ben’s stomach blossoms more. There’s no easy exit from this room for Carlos now, and Carlos still lets him in. “Where’s Jay?”

“I don’t know,” Carlos replies. “I think he went to see the girls. They’ve all been acting a little funny today.”

Something in his tone and his eyes catch Ben off guard. As with all of them, he needs to remember how sharp they are, how quick they catch on. He says, “Oh,” but feels the sweat prickle more on the back of his neck anyway.

Ben sits down next to him on the bed, careful of his leg. They talk about their days, about school, about the warm change into spring. Ben’s gut is tying itself in knots that Harry Hook himself wouldn’t know how to undo. How do you ask someone to share with you not just themselves, but a little bit of each of the people they love the most? How do you ask someone who is already spreading their love to spread it a little further, without being selfish? Maybe the whole idea is selfish.

Before Ben gets his chance, Carlos, ever brave, tests the waters.

“Yesterday was a mess,” he says, slow. “But you were there when I needed you. I really - that meant a lot to me.”

“Oh,” says Ben. He feels like his words are balls he’s meant to be juggling, clumsy and unfamiliar. “Of course. Don’t mention it.”

“It’s a big deal for me,” Carlos says, slower still. Maybe he’s juggling a bit, too. “And you’ve always been like that. And that’s always been a big deal for me.”

“You’ve been a big deal for me too,” Ben blurts out.

Carlos’s ears go red. It’s gratifying.

_ Selfish. _

“I know that I’m not… I don’t know,” Carlos says, properly stumbling now, “I’m not Mal. Or Evie. Or Jay. Or anyone. But I really care about you, and I know that they do too. And you must care about them.”

Ben’s pulse pounds in his ears. Carlos spills one hand off his lap and open, towards Ben, palm up, fingers unfurled. Waits.

Ben puts his own hand there. It’s so warm, and Carlos’ hands are calloused and soft, ridged and worn and gentle.

“Am I what’s stopping you?” Carlos’ voice is so steady, but Ben feels the ache, hears it. It’s his own ache reflected back.

“God, Carlos-” he can’t help his voice breaking, “You are but not - not like that. You’re the one I don’t want to break.”

“I’m not going to break,” Carlos hisses, fierce, fingernails digging into Ben’s hand. “But if I don’t make you feel like they do-”

“You do,” Ben chokes, “please, you do. I want all of you. I don’t know what I’d do without any of you.”

Blinking, eyelashes fluttering, Carlos sets his jaw. “Then have us,” he demands.

Ben never could say no to Carlos.

 

Ben spent so long imagining what it would be like, when he finally became king, when he finally brought the children from the Isle to Auradon. He had lay awake at night thinking about it, been distracted in school daydreaming of it, playing the scenarios out in his head a thousand different ways.

Somehow he missed this one.

In all his fantasies, all his worries, all his complex constructions and hypotheticals, it had never occurred to Ben that he might fall in love.

He worries that there will be adjustments, but after his talk with Carlos, things are the same, for the most part. He sits on the grass with Mal, eating sandwiches and talking about the future. Evie becomes a closer adviser to him by the day, her eloquent phrasing and gentle tongue shaping each of his declarations. Whenever he’s too burnt out from work and school, he calls Jay, to go scrum on the pitch until they collapse, tangled up in each other, relief from everything they keep pent up. Carlos, ever watching, ever careful, lets Ben in one piece at a time, the way he always has - little snippets of conversation they catch between classes, late night mumblings when the others have fallen asleep, shared glances over the top of someone else’s head. Mal and Evie are always giggling and whispering, Carlos and Jay still bicker and cuddle, Jay looking after them all with his life. Carlos calling them all out when they need it. Evie’s heart reminding them all that they care. Mal grounding them, keeping their eyes forward.

Ben could never have imagined he would fit, before realising he already did. It’s just that now Evie doesn’t have to keep any secrets, now Jay can kiss him without being drunk, now Mal relaxes fully, herself one hundred percent of the time, and Carlos - well, Carlos is more or less the same. Ben probably should have realised Carlos wouldn’t be a problem much, much earlier.

It’s quiet and loud and soft and fierce and  _ god, _ how is he going to explain this one to his parents - but it’s worth it. Each of them, and the group as a whole, biggerbetterbrighter than the sum of its parts, are worth it.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @ golly-g-minor, please come cry to me about this stupid disney movie which is controlling my life


End file.
